The Saddest People Smile the Brightest
by MandyHanazuka990
Summary: Life Stories. It's really sad.
1. The Saddest People Smile the Brightest

**The saddest people smile the brightest.**

The little child stood in the middle of a field bare of flowers, just grass. The sun had gone down, and the stars were shining brightly over his head. His squinted eyes watched the stars, a faint smile upon his lips. In his hands, he held a painting of a rabbit. The painting had been done by someone he had loved very dearly, but was now long gone. With their promise in his mind, he sat down with the painting, holding it close to him.

"_'I promise to return after the war, and I will always love you, Italy.'_" The child whispered. "Those were your last words to me, before you left. That was 5 years ago."

His little heart began to throb, tears were building in his eyes.  
"Even now, I still wait for you, Holy Rome. Waiting for you to keep your promise. I know you will. I know you will come back one day, Holy Rome." Despite the oncoming sorrow the child felt, he continued to smile. "And I keep my promise, too, Holy Rome. I promised I would wait for you to come back."

The stars were slowly fading out of sight as the sun came back up. By the time someone had found the small child, he was asleep on the grass where he waited. Another man picked up the child, sighing.  
"Italy, you poor child." He felt broken, unable to tell the grieving child that the one he waited for… could possibly never show up again. Instead of waking him, he took the child back inside and laid him in a bed, tucking him in. "Elizabeta, make sure food is ready for her when she wakes up." The man, known as Austria, had always thought that the child was a little girl.

Another woman stood nearby and nodded. She was a beautiful woman with long brown hair. Austria and the woman, Hungary, were 'married' through their countries alliance, but that didn't stop their feelings for one another. Austria couldn't imagine being apart from Elizabeta like Italy was from Holy Rome, so he tried his best to make sure Italy had little time to grieve, hoping he would become a strong 'woman' one day.

The child slept on, his dream the same one he has had for the longest time.

He stood in the middle of a… What seemed to be a battle field. There were lifeless bodies around him, some seeming to beg for his help and attention. And, per usual, there was a specific one that caught his attention. The body of a child in black, with tousled blond hair, his eyes were closed. Italy had ran to the child, however the child only seemed to grow further and further out of his reach. Being unable to aid him, Italy just continued to run, crying out. "Don't leave me!"

But he was awoken before he could ever find out if he would catch up to him. He would wake up in a cold sweat, tears running down his face. And as Elizabeta came in with food, he would smile brightly at her, making sure his face was clean of tears. After all, Italy didn't want her to worry about him.

—-

It had been many many long years. That child became an adult. He grew up with a smile on his face, and tried everything he could to keep that smile going, to make others happy.

He stood in that same clearing, watching the sun go down slowly. Once the stars were visible, he was laying in the grass, just staring ahead. The sound of footsteps, and moving grass, caught his attention as he looked up. The sad expression on his face changed, becoming a delighted, bright, happy smile as he sat up, throwing his arms into the air in delight. His friends and beloved Allies stood next to him, one crouched to his level with a reassuring smile. The other just watched him, a faint smile upon his lips.

"Come on, Italy. Let's go home." His voice was kind and gentle towards the Italian.

Italy nodded in agreement, slipping his tiny hand into the man's larger one, letting him help him up. "Yes. Let's go home, Germany. All three of us."

—

A tall man sat at the dinner table with his family. His two beloved sisters to his right, and his 'friends' to his left. They laughed, they spoke, they exchanged conversations. The tall man hoped that they could go on forever. It was his life dream to have all the other nations under one roof, all living with him, next to a field of sunflowers.

That's all he hoped for. Happiness for others and happiness for himself. He wanted them all to be one big family. However, his past made him a little more intimidating then he intends. His mind was mentally cracked from all the war and bloodshed. He was like a child with wishes that he hoped would one day become fulfilled. Ivan, as he was usually called, had suffered far longer then most people.

However, one day, Ivan stood with his family in a family photo. He hung it on his wall so he could always smile on his family.

That family, however, didn't last much longer after that photo was taken. Shortly after, his 'friends' went on their own way, and his sisters followed.

One night, Ivan lay awake in bed, his household empty and deserted of all life, of all happiness it once sheltered. The dinner table was very unused, the family room where they would gather for their activities had gone quiet from the lack of people.

Ivan just… Stared. His heart was breaking in two as he rolled over, praying for sleep to consume him, release him from the cold, harsh realities of being awake, and take him to the world of sleep, where he could be with his family once more.

But that night was different. When sleep finally did overcome him, he stood in a field of snow, five people in front of him. They faced him with smiled on their faces. One by one, they faded from his view.

"No! No please! Please don't go!" Ivan called out, tears streaming down his face, but it was too late. The swirl of snow surrounded him as General Winter wrapped his arms around Ivan, almost promising him that he would always be alone. Ivan suddenly felt a warm grasp in his hand and glanced back, only to find that the one who had decided to comfort him was fading and leaving as well.

Slipping to his knees, Ivan buried his face in his hands, crying. He cried the tears he had held back for so long. Laying back, he kept his hands over his face, staring up at the clouded sky. Ivan took this as a sign that he was doomed, condemned to always be alone. That his dreams were shattered. There was nothing he could do about it.

Over time, he joined everyone again at meetings, still intimidating as usual. He watched the antics that went on around him, coming and going. Ivan occasionally stopped to make fun of the youngest nation and other world super power, America, but continued on his way.

Deep in his heart, he still hoped for the day his house would no longer feel so empty, that it would be filled with life. He hoped one day he would no longer feel lonely and alone.


	2. The Loneliest People Are the Kindest

**The loneliest people are the kindest.**

Gilbert Beilschmidt, or known to be the 'awesome Prussia'. He was a Teutonic knight. Gil, however, was also a well known prankster and joker. He was constantly arguing with Austria and Hungary, never seeming to go his way. Yet that never stopped him from continuing on, it never got him down.

One morning, Gilbert was out with his boss, Fritz. Fritz was one of the few he cared much about. The fact that they were out there worried him. Especially with Fritz's expression.

"Listen here, Gilbert." He turned to the child and knelt in front of him. "Hold out your hand, I have something for you."

Gilbert, being confused, held out his tiny hand. Fritz took his hand in one of his own, placing a cross on some thread in his hand. "I am not going to be around forever, and so I would like you to have this, and to always remember that you are strong."

Gilbert blinked in surprise, looking up at him. "Fritz.." Was all he could muster as tears built in his eyes. Fritz just smiled encouragingly, nodding towards the cross. "Put it on."

He nodded, putting it around his neck.

That very next morning, Gilbert was sitting in a chair next to Fritz's bed, holding his hand tightly. "Fritz... Fritz no.." His body shook as he cried in agony, mourning the loss of his beloved departed boss.

For the rest of that day, Gilbert was no where to be found by the others. Instead, he sat on that hill, looking out at the sky. The same place he shared his last precious moments with Fritz.

Over time, Gilbert hurt, but he held it in, continuing to call himself 'the awesome Prussia'. Nothing in his life hurt more then the day his Empire fell.

He just stood here, watching the man with the scroll. Gilbert didn't want this day to come. He didn't want to be there. Tears were building in his eyes as the words that hurt him the most were quickly approaching.

"No... Please don't say it."

"I declare Königreich Preußen officially... Dissolved."

Gilbert's eyes closed, tears falling down his face. "I'm sorry, Fritz. I couldn't stay strong..."

Even when the others departed, Gilbert remained there, looking up at the sky. It wasn't until a small, child like hand slipped into his that he looked down. The small blond child watched him with neutral blue eyes, however concerned.

"Bruder.." Was all he said.

Gilbert knelt down, understanding that the child didn't like seeing him like that. Taking the child into his arms, he smiled softly. "It's alright... I'll be alright, kleinen Bruder. I'll still be here to make sure that you grow up big and strong."

And so, he did. The child grew up to be a strong country. The country of Germany. They had just lost a war. World War I. A big, tall Russian was waiting for Gilbert.

Gilbert was still holding onto his brother. "Bruder. Be safe, ok?" He grinned like an idiot, trying to keep his brother happy. "I'm not going to be around forever, and so I would like you to have this, to always remember that you are strong."

And letting go of Germany, he placed the cross and thread into his hands. "Goodbye, Bruder." Without tears, he turned away, walking towards the Russian.

Behind him, he could hear Germany shouting. "I'll get you back! I promise, Bruder!"

But Gilbert continued walking, not looking back. Even when the Russian took his arm, he still stood tall, just looking ahead.

-

A grown man slipped out of the meeting room. Everyone had finally gone just a few minutes before he himself had slipped out. His legs hurt, a large Russian had sat on him. Matthew Williams was his name. Matthew wasn't surprised that he had been forgotten about once more in the G8 meeting, but to a point where he had been sat on. That was new.

Ever since he was little, he seemed to be the forgotten one. Growing up, he lived with a Frenchman. The Frenchman had been kind and sweet to him, making him sweets, keeping him company, protecting him.

Once night, there was a terrible storm outside, one that kept little Matthew awake in fear. The noise scared him. The sudden noise made him scream out in fear, crying and burying himself into the blankets. A gentle, comforting hand rested on his back and Matthew peeked out, only to be greeted by a loving smile, a familiar one that always greeted him. Matthew crawled out quickly, clinging to the Frenchman.

"Papa, the sound... It scares me." Matthew had whimpered, burying his face into the man's chest.

"Awe, come now, mon petite, it's alright. The rain will stop, the thunder will go away. And tomorrow, the sun will shine again." Francis gently pet the child's head in a comforting manor. "Tomorrow, we may get to see a rainbow, and think of all the puddles we can splash around in."

Matthew gripped his shirt, but loosened his grip. "O... Oui papa." Glancing back up, he smiled happily. The older man stood and laid the child in the bed carefully, gently tucking him in with a goodnight kiss.

"So sleep well, mon cher. Everything will be fine in the morning. I promise." With a smile, he headed towards the door and slowly shut it behind him. Matthew stared at the ceiling for the next few moments before sleep finally overcame him, lulling him into a sense of protection.

-

It had been about a year to that day that the fighting had started. Arthur, or England, and Francis, France, had begun a war. How long it lasted was unknown to the child.

One day in particular was burned into his mind. Matthew clung to Francis's shirt, his tear stained face burying into his chest. Francis held the child tenderly, both of them hiding behind a wall for protection. Bombs had gone off all over, only frightening Matthew. Francis did what he could to try to sooth the child, trying his best to make sure Matthew was safe. Matthew was his top priority within the chaos that ensued around them.

"It's alright, Mattieu." He cooed, stroking the child's hair.

Matthew only looked up at him with scared purple eyes, trying to comprehend what was going on. However, he relaxed in Francis's arms, trusting his 'father' would protect him and keep him safe from all harm. There was something... Odd about Francis's smile, a sort of sad feel to it. Shrugging it off, Matthew slowly fell asleep in Francis's arms.

It wasn't even a week later when Francis took his tiny hands in his own and led him outside. There, a tall man, at least to Matthew he was tall, stood, glancing down at the small child. "Ah, there is the lad. Come on, America is waiting for his new brother."

Matthew's eyes widen as he realized what was going on. Francis was giving him to England. "Non, papa! Je ne veux pas y aller! S'il vous plait ne me donnez pas loin de lui!"

He shouted at the Frenchman in French, his eyes filling with tears. Francis only knelt by him, his own eyes also teary at having to give Matthew up to Arthur. "Chut. S'il vous plait ne pas pleurer. Je n'ai pas le choix, Mattieu. S'il vous plait aller avec lui. Sois fort, mon petit. Sachez que papa vous aime et vous aimerai toujours."

Matthew sniffled tearfully, wiping at his eyes. "Oui papa. Je t'aime, papa."

That only made the Frenchman flinch, his heart aching. Francis felt like his heart was shattering as he gave Matthew one last comforting hug. "Je t'aime, Mattieu."

Arthur scoffed in irritation and pried them apart. "Alright, Frog, we get it, come on." Taking the child's hand, he gently pulled Matthew away, ready to leave.

Matthew glanced back over his shoulder. Francis was still on his knees, watching, before he buried his face in his hands, crying. Matthew trembled, looking forward, unable to bear looking at his crying father.

-

With a sigh, Matthew sat down on one of the benches outside the meeting room. "Why can't anyone see me? Not even... Not even papa saw me."

Holding his polar bear close to him, Matthew buried his face into the bear's fur. "He even forgot that I even existed. Maybe... Maybe he forgot his words to me when Arthur took me to live with him..."

The bear only looked up at him. "Who are you?"

This made Matthew seeth, but before he could respond to his friend and companion, a pair of footsteps approached him, making him look up. An albino stood in front of him with a huge obnoxious grin on his face. "Hallo Birdie!" His voice was loud with a thick accent.

"Oh, hey Gilbert." He sighed.

"What's wrong, Birdie?" The albino sat down next to him, wrapping an arm around the other's shoulder.

"No one noticed me again, and Russia sat on me today." He was tearing up again when the Albino grabbed him and held him close.

"Awe, don't be sad, Birdie. I notice you, I always do. We're in the same boat, you and I. No one sees you, and I'm a lost forgotten Kingdom. No one else should matter, because you have at least one friend who is there, who notices you, and cares." He had a gentle smile, letting him go.

Matthew blinked in surprise at his words and wiped his eyes with a smile. "Your right Gilbert. I guess when I have you, and Kumataro too, I have all I need to be happy."

"Gut! Now let's go have some pancakes." Gilbert shot up, picking up Mattie. "Make me some awesome pancakes, Birdie!" He was grinning like an idiot.

Matthew flushed and laughed at Gilbert. "Alright, Gilbert, but you have to say please."

"Uuuugh ok. Bitte?" He smirked, saying it in German.

"Er, well, ok I guess."

-

The Britain had been sleeping when a hand shook his shoulder. His eyes opened and he looked up at a Frenchman and a Finish man that stood by his bed.

"Come on, Angletairre! We found a boy!"


End file.
